


Three Days of Discovery

by keeperofstories



Series: Arthur Pendragon: Vampire Hunterrrr, Nope, Just Vampire [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arthur thinks he needs to be self-sacrificing, Creature Fic, Kinkalot 2020, Kinkalot Bingo Fill: Picture Prompt, M/M, Masturbation, Sort Of, Vampire!Arthur, a touch of internalized homophobia, anal penetration, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofstories/pseuds/keeperofstories
Summary: Arthur wakes up knowing exactly what he has to do. When the time comes, he will be stoic and accepting, turning himself over to his father and the pyre, thus saving his people from the evil he's become. Only problem is, it'll take three days to reach the Citadel. A lot can happen in three days.Based on this picture prompt: https://i.imgur.com/jnEZ4kT.jpg
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Arthur Pendragon: Vampire Hunterrrr, Nope, Just Vampire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885861
Comments: 24
Kudos: 89
Collections: Kinkalot 2020





	Three Days of Discovery

Two bites and the life Arthur knew was over. His captors knew they didn’t have to kill Arthur; they understood that making him like them was worse than death. They forced the change on him, biting both his wrists and then their own, forcing their rank blood down his throat. 

Though he wanted to be revolted by the taste, though he had expected these creatures’ blood to be congealed and foul, as they tipped his head back and pried his mouth open, he could taste the truth, the power, of that smooth, sweet liquid. Arthur tried to spit the blood out but it was no use. As darkness overtook his vision, Arthur despaired. 

Arthur awoke with purpose, knowing exactly what he had to do. His makers had left him alone outside a familiar village, three day’s journey from the Citadel, even with the surging power he felt coursing through his veins. All he had to do was make it three days. Three days of suppression, three days of battling the corrosive creature he now was, and then he would surrender himself to his father and the pyre. 

Starting his trek with accepting solemnity, Arthur’s resolve almost immediately began to crumble as burgeoning senses within him made it feel like he had woken up in a new world. 

_It doesn’t matter_ , Arthur thought to himself, keeping his focused gaze forward and shutting out all the new colours, scents, and sensations that were calling to him like a siren’s song. It didn’t matter that colours seemed so vibrant, they could almost be made of gem stones. It didn’t matter that there was an almost tangible energy surrounding him that felt so overwhelmingly like _life_ that it made Arthur want to cry from happiness. It didn’t matter that he felt so elated in this new, stronger body that he was tempted to run a hundred leagues just for the joy of it. Nor did it matter that, when coming upon a bleeding farmer, no dark thoughts of blood and death took control of him, spurring him to kill to prolong his own unnatural existence. None of it mattered, Arthur’s course was clear and he would not stray from it. 

The second day of Arthur’s journey brought him more doubt, though he refused to acknowledge it. He’d been a perverse creature of magic for one day and he hadn’t massacred any villages, tempted any souls to forsake all they knew to be good, or, really, recognized any corruption within his own being. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t come. 

Though he’d hardly slept, he’d woken feeling rejuvenated, the remnant of a dream teasing at the edges of his memory. Though he couldn’t recall the details, he somehow knew from the delighted fluttering within his heart that it hadn’t been a dream of ripped open throats and spurting blood. No, the memory of the dream felt like a warm embrace and Arthur could almost convince himself he still felt arms clinging to him even whilst awake. 

_It doesn’t matter_ , Arthur reminded himself as he resumed his journey. He was a creature of darkness now—metaphorical darkness, as rays of sunshine that felt as soothing against his skin as a long bath after a full day of training shone down on him—and his people must be protected from him. 

_It doesn’t matter_ , Arthur thought, the short phrase a litany by then, as he once again became aware of that all-encompassing force swirling around him, _within_ him, rushing through the trees and descending deep into the earth. _It doesn’t matter_ , Arthur shouted within his head as his newly awakened Instinct urged him to recognize this force, this power, for what it was and acknowledge that it didn’t feel anything like his father had taught him it ought. 

Once again, deep into the night, Arthur climbed to a sturdy branch high in a tree to sleep for a few hours. And once again, a dream visited him. 

He was being beckoned but he couldn’t see the person’s face; all he got were flashes. A delighted smirk, an extended hand…a hard body. Arthur tried to get a better look, to call out to this ethereal creature to come closer, but, with a flirtatious laugh, the being turned and ran. Instinct told Arthur that he needed to catch this person, that he was important to him, and so Arthur pursued. His new legs propelled him across the ground, wind stinging past his face, and yet his prey was always ahead of him, just out of Arthur’s reach. 

Though he couldn’t get a real look at the man, the flashes kept coming as Arthur pumped his legs, spurring himself ever faster. A flash of an upturned head, exposing a long, pale throat that Arthur just wanted to run his lips against, his strong hand laid flat against the vulnerable skin, claws just pricking the delicate surface as an Adam’s apple bobbed against his restraining hold, not from fear but arousal. His lips pressed to a pounding pulse; a hand threaded through his hair to keep him there. Another flash, and how could Arthur see legs spread wide, an expanse of unmarked, white skin whilst he could still hear the fleet feet of his prey running ahead of him, just out of reach? 

The flashes kept coming: the slide of fabric leaving that same throat, a challenging laugh from a mouth moistened by the sweep of a sultry tongue, and golden eyes that pierced Arthur to his very core and yet he felt safe within their view. 

Suddenly, the dream shifted and Arthur was surrounded by the familiar walls of the Citadel. Stopping up short, Arthur searched within the moving shadows of the courtyard for the one who’d led him there. 

Arthur was seized from behind, no longer the pursuer but the captured as his head was yanked to the side by a large hand, exposing his own neck just how he had wanted to do to the unseen man behind him. Lips descended to his own pulse point and though Arthur thought he should be afraid, standing completely helpless within, clearly magical, hands, he wasn’t. Arthur instead felt himself relax into the tight grip as he felt a sudden hardness breach him, fill him, drive him wild as he was held immobilized. 

“Come home,” the man said, pressing the words into Arthur’s neck as his thrusts sped up, the throbbing ache between Arthur’s legs pulsing with each slap of the hips behind him. 

On that third day, Arthur woke up hungry—in more than one way. Arthur shoved down his trousers just enough to free his aching cock, taking himself in hand and gasping at the intensity of feeling his calloused hand wrap around his sensitive shaft. If he thought his senses had been heightened before, it was nothing compared to experiencing the pressure, heat, and texture of his hand as he fucked into his fist, clenching his arsecheeks brutally as he sought to appease an aching emptiness he couldn’t fill, shouldn’t want to fill. 

Arthur didn’t last long and with that hunger satiated, he was suddenly overwhelmed with how _starved_ he was. But he was so close to the Citadel and he still intended to turn himself over, he did. He could go a day without attacking anyone. _It doesn’t matter_ , Arthur repeated in his head, forcing the hunger away. He didn’t need to eat because he would be dead by nightfall. He was determined, Camelot needed to be cleansed of his evil. He knew that’s what he was and yet that force, that life-affirming, comforting, _magical_ power was sweeping through him, caressing him and trying to take away the hunger pains. As much as Arthur tried to deny it, he suddenly understood the connection magic had to the land, to the people, to everything; he could feel it as it wove its way through the fabric of existence itself. Including his own. 

For the first time, he listened to his Instinct and it brought him to a farmhouse, the farmer leading an ox as she tossed seeds onto the tilled earth, her back slumped and eyes pained as her body protested the work. 

“My lady,” Arthur said, extending his hand for the farmer’s own, which she gave blushingly. Arthur then raised the wrist to his lips, biting down as the farmer’s eyes turned glassy, unseeing. 

Arthur had only taken a few long pulls at her wrist before he felt completely full. Disengaging and stepping away, Arthur watched the woman from afar, seeking any signs of distress as she shook her head resolutely and returned to her sowing with a renewed energy, her back straight, her movements graceful. Arthur smiled as he realized this creature he’d become wasn’t a parasite at all; it gave energy just as it took blood. He didn’t have to kill. 

With magic flowing around him, Arthur started off on the final leg of his journey, curious to discover what this new world would bring.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed this :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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